Big Brother, I Seek Freedom
by Silver-Winged Bird
Summary: AU. Arthur Kirkland promised to be the best brother to Alfred F. Jones forever, no matter the cost. But how will he keep his promise when the entire country of America along with Alfred aim their guns at him? Revolutionary War, not USUK. NOW REVISING.
1. Prologue

**Prologue...**

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><p>"… What have I done?"<p>

The soldier loomed over the limp and inert corpse at his feet, his cold and clammy hands shaking and trembling beyond his control. Rivers of tears flooded his eyes and leaked down his pale face, falling straight to the soggy mud drenched in the rain. The flintlock musket in his hands dropped to the floor with a dull thud as his legs gave way and he fell so weakly. He clenched at the soaked red coat around him, as if hoping doing so would ease the agony of the hole in his left leg, or the excruciating pain in his chest. His emerald eyes were glued to the bloody heap that lay before him.

"… My Lord… What have I done…?" he panted, his teeth chattering and his tongue flinching at the metallic taste of his own blood. He bit on his lip harder and ran his dirty fingers in his straw yellow hair matted over his face, "I… I killed him…"

The corpse of the man he had shot stared ever so lifelessly at him, his once bright, lively, and beautiful sapphire eyes merely a dull and lackluster pair of orbs with no light or shine. His pale skin was dyed red in his own spilling blood, the gorgeous royal blue of his coat soaking in the red vital liquid like a sponge. His hand, immobile and stone cold, lay steadily on his musket, as if preparing to fire.

The man who shot him was waiting for that bullet to pierce through his skull at any moment.

But it never came.

"I killed him," he gasped, his chest throbbing painfully and his sobs becoming harder and harder to control. "My Lord… This young man… I took his life away…" He clenched at his red uniform and let the salty tears mix with the blood he currently tasted in his otherwise dry mouth.

The corpse did not respond. His only action was lying limp on the muddy, and quite bloody, ground.

"You…" the man hiccupped, clenching his teeth together. "… Please forgive your foolish and incompetent big brother for taking your life away." He reached down and took his beloved sibling's hand in his own, gasping at how heavy and stony it was. "Please… You don't need to worry anymore… Big brother will always be with you… No matter what happens, I shall join you in the other world, and we'll be happy together, forever…"

He gazed up to meet the thousands and thousands of pairs of vehement eyes glaring at him, and realized who they were. "… The army… The ones you ate with, slept with, and fought alongside with…" He laughed ever so excruciatingly and bit his already wounded and swollen lip. "… They did it… You did it… Are you happy? Does that make you smile in the next world?"

The body remained inert. He still looked at the man before him ever so dully.

The British soldier tossed his musket about 3 feet away from him and yanked the inert corpse into a hug. He buried his head in his shoulder, hoping to wipe the tears away. What was left of the scent of the befallen warrior was overwhelmed by the scent of blood. It made the Brit sick to his already upset stomach, but he remained by his side regardless of his ill condition.

"Please give my regards to my mother and father up in Heaven," he pleaded quietly. "I'm sure your true parents are there to welcome you as well… and congratulate you on a job well done."

He pulled away long enough to honorably close the parted eyelids of the American soldier, smiling contently as if he had helped him to rest in peace.

"Good night, brother…"


	2. Chapter 1: A Promise

I will state ahead of time. I do not own anything at all. Please enjoy! :D If the story seems rushed, please do not flame. I will submit a longer version when my contest with some friends end in January. Thanks again! :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: <em>1757 <em>_French-Indian__ War/ __7__ Years__ War_**

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><p>"Arthur, come here!"<p>

The young British boy with messy short blond hair glared out at the horizon, his radiant emerald eyes fixed upon the flowing grass. The year was 1757, a year the colonists had wished for peace, his mother told the child. Because he didn't understand what peace was and who the 'colonists' were, he didn't question her. For some reason, his father hadn't returned home like he had promised. It angered the little boy more than it worried him. His father broke his promise he made to Arthur and his mother.

"Arthur?"

The blond boy turned to see his mother with another woman with sandy brown, almost blond hair smiling at him warmly. He recognized her as his mother's friend and skipped his way over to the two women. "Yes Mummy?"

"Say hello to Goody Jones," she said contently. "You've met her before, haven't you, child?"

Arthur nodded, and turned to Mrs. Jones with a small bow as a polite gesture. "How do you do, Mrs. Jones?"

"I'm doing just fine, thank you, Arthur," the American lady responded merrily a radiant smile bestowed upon her light face. "I've just had my first son. His name is Alfred. Would you like to meet him?"

Arthur glanced to realize she had been holding a small bundle in her arms for quite some time now. "Okay."

Mrs. Jones kneeled over to allow the short child to gaze upon the newborn baby's face. "This is Arthur," she cooed to the sleeping baby. "Say hello, Alfie."

The small Alfred did not budge. He remained in an inert and sleeping position.

"Is he dead?" Arthur asked bluntly, poking the baby's chubby face. "He's not saying hello."

"Arthur!" his mother scolded a bit ashamed of her son's behavior. "Forgive him, Alice, he's a bit blunt. He seemed to have forgotten his manners." Her last sentence had an edge to her voice so sharp it made Arthur cringe in guilt.

Mrs. Jones laughed. "I don't mind, Abigail. He's a sweet boy." She ruffled Arthur's hair with her free hand before tucking it back underneath her child. "You've raised him well."

Arthur stared down at the baby's face. "He's fat. Why are babies so chubby?"

"Arthur Kirkland!" his mother screeched, appalled by his rude comment.

Mrs. Jones, once again, only responded with a happy laugh. "He means well, Abby. Babies are a gift and are to be taken with such curiosity." She beamed at Arthur. "Will you be Alfred's big brother, Arthur? I'm sure he'll love to have a big brother to play with when he gets older."

"I think it's splendid," Mrs. Kirkland agreed with a small but sweet smile. "What do you think, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded his head. "Okay." He frowned. "But won't he need a father too?"

Mrs. Kirkland's small smile also slipped off her gaunt face. "Mr. Jones is at war right now, Arthur. I think I've told you already."

Arthur paused a moment before starting again. "War…? Will he win and come home soon like he promised? I'm sure he promised to come home like Father did."

Mrs. Jones's once radiant face faded away like a light flickering in an attempt to stay alive. She lowered her head and frowned deeply. "Um, well, you see, Arthur… Mr. Jones isn't… coming back."

"I'm so sorry, Alice," his mother muttered almost breathlessly, as if her chest was pained to utter those four short words.

"Think nothing of it, dear," she tried to smile, though it was much crooked than before. "He was impressed into joining the war."

Arthur looked perplexed. Not coming back? Did he like staying away from his wife and newborn baby? He was impressed? He liked war? Why? Was war much more important than Alfred and his wife who need him home?

Was Arthur's own father like that too?

Now he was mad.

"They like war? They were impressed into joining the military? I know Father is a British soldier and he HAD to join, but he LIKED it? I can't believe it!"

Mrs. Jones's face color melted. "It's not like that, Arthur sweetie."

"It makes no sense! He and Mr. Jones just want to leave Mrs. Jones and baby Alfred here by themselves? Why? It's not fair! Just because they want to watch people suffer doesn't mean they can make those who love him at home suffer too!" Arthur stamped his foot into the ground, clearly in pure anger and frustration. "That's very selfish of them!"

"Arthur, you don't understand," Mrs. Jones pleaded, tears forming in her brilliant blue eyes.

"What's left to understand?" Arthur snapped, tears gushing from his own eyes. "They decided to leave their families here so they can kill other people who actually WANT to go home and see their families again? That's too cruel!"

"Arthur, I've heard just about enough from you!" Mrs. Kirkland slapped the back of her child's head in frustration. "You've made Mrs. Jones cry!"

Arthur cringed at the sudden soft but firm blow dealt to his head, but found crying over making Mrs. Jones cry more appropriate over crying over the whack on the head. "… Mrs. Jones? I'm very sorry… Are you alright?"

Mrs. Jones wiped her tears away and let the bright smile return to her face. "I am just fine, Arthur honey, and thank you. When I meant Mr. Jones isn't coming back, I meant… he was killed in battle."

Arthur felt his heart stop for three seconds at the dreaded word 'killed.' He wasn't expecting that. That's what they meant on not coming home… What about Mr. Jones being impressed into joining the war? What did they mean by impressed?

"When Mr. Jones was impressed into enlisting, it means he was forced into joining the army," Mrs. Kirkland replied, as if reading her child's mind.

Arthur finally understood. Mr. Jones didn't want to join the war. He wanted to stay home with Mrs. Jones and Alfred like a father and husband should. He didn't want to see people die. He wanted to see his baby grow up. He was forced into watching instead of admiring bloodshed.

He was very wrong, Arthur sadly concluded. "I'm… I'm very sorry, Mrs. Jones."

"Don't worry, little one," Mrs. Jones kissed the top of his head. "Alfie and I will be alright. His father is watching us from heaven. He was a wonderful man." She cooed to her baby. "Isn't that right, Alfred?"

The baby, once more, refused to move. He was deep into sleep.

Arthur began to sulk. "His father… I'm sure would be very proud of Alfred when he grows up." He bit his lower lip to fight off more tears that threatened to leak from his grassy green eyes. It got the child thinking… was his father dead too?

"Well, why don't you stay with us, Alice?" Arthur's mother proposed with a sweet smile. "I'm sure you'll find yourself at home with us. And Arthur would be able to take care of Alfred more easily."

Mrs. Jones seemed to like the idea. "If it's not too much trouble, thank you." She held up her baby. "Alfred thinks it's a good idea too."

Arthur blinked. "But I thought he was asleep."

The infant finally stirred awake in his mother's arms, but could not open his eyes.

Arthur watched him closely. "I think he doesn't like the sun." He gently pinched his chubby cheek. "My little brother doesn't like the sun?"

Mrs. Jones giggled. "Don't worry, he's just a newborn! When he grows to be your age, he'll surely be running and playing all afternoon."

"Will he?" Arthur seemed quite pleased to hear this; his emerald eyes glistened as his face lightened up. He smiled widely and poked Alfred's nose. "Hi there Alfred, my name is Arthur! I'm your big brother now, so I'll take good care of you, ok?"

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><p>AN Thanks for reading! :D

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><p>Next: Chapter 2- 1763<p> 


	3. Chapter 2: Cross My Heart

A/N: Yes! I am finally in the process of revising (ultimately redoing) my story Big Brother I Seek Freedom. To those who read already and choose to review to the new chapters (I will be utterly grateful if you do), please do not give away any details of the upcoming events, thank you! I plan to spice things up from here on out, and add more vigor and vitality to the story. Thank goodness; it seemed like it was just sped through. I can't wait till it's finished. Thank you for those who read and reread! I really do appreciate it!

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><p>Chapter 2: <em>Cross My Heart<em>

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><p>Several weeks had passed since Arthur had carried little Alfie into his home for the first time. Within those days, however, the little Briton was getting rather tired of having to wake every morning at God knows how early to the sound of a sobbing baby. It was exhausting, and he had even rarely participated for caring for the little infant in the first place. Just having the thought of dreading the night in anticipation of Alfred's wails was tiring enough for him. He made sure his mother knew of it.<p>

"Mummy," Arthur moaned, "tell Alfred to be quiet. I'm still tired, and I want to sleep."

His mother in response entered his room to stroke his hair and coo him back to sleep. "I know, sweetie. Mrs. Jones is taking care of him right now, ok? Please just try to go back to sleep."

"It's hard," Arthur muttered, covering his ears. "I have a headache from Alfred crying every night."

"He's just hungry, Arthur," Mrs. Kirkland smiled, beginning to hum a soft tune to her son. "Babies are always hungry."

"But he could have had dinner just like everyone else, and he didn't," Arthur grumbled. "Instead he drank milk."

His mother burst out into a fit of giggles while ruffling the boy's hair. "He's just a baby, Arthur, dear. Babies don't eat big food like we do. He's too tiny, and he doesn't have teeth like us. He needs to wait a few years before he can eat as much chicken as you."

Arthur made a sour face. "But chicken is yummy. He should eat it now just to see how it's like."

Mrs. Kirkland smiled and rubbed the boy's back. "Give him another year or two. He'll grow up fast, just watch."

Arthur only groaned in response. His mother laughed one more time and left the room, leaving the child to lie on his belly in bed, still covering his ears from the deleterious effects Alfred's shrieking had on him. He tossed the covers over him and yawned, his eyes stinging from lack of moisture and his temples throbbing from lack of sleep. Having to listen to cries of dissatisfaction from the toddler annoyed Arthur to no end, but the benefit was that he had crashed almost seconds after Alfred was silenced.

As if on cue, the wails had slowed to a permanent stop, finally leaving the once loud house into an all new quiet. Arthur sighed in relief and shut his eyes, his face burying itself into the depths of the pillow beneath his head.

"Alfred's such a noisy baby… it's almost hard to be his indoor neighbor."

The next morning, while Alfred was sleeping on Mrs. Jones's bed, Arthur had leapt out of bed and raced to see the baby with a look of frustration plastered on his round face.

"I do not understand why Mummy was against me calling you fat," Arthur muttered to himself, poking the cheeks of baby Alfred. "You are a chubby, sleepy, stinky little baby. You cry a lot too, and you never sleep in the night like we normally do."

Alfred did not respond. He was still sleeping.

Arthur placed his hands on his hips and let his frown deepen. The baby was perfectly silent during the day; so why did he find it more suitable to cry for milk at night, when he was supposed to sleep?

The infant remained as still as a rock, safe the soft snores. Arthur finally let his face relax a bit. The baby, as demanding as he was, was definitely cute, and he was fun to poke and spin around and sing to. He was a great one-man audience when Arthur wanted to talk to him about the prairies and the sea and so forth.

… Maybe this little guy wasn't half bad.

"You are a weird baby… but do you know what?" Arthur asked the little infant again, kissing its forehead. "I am a very person. I am very happy to have a little baby in my home. Welcome to the family, little Alfred." He gave the baby a tiny smile, knowing the baby wouldn't be able to hear or see him. He was only a newborn, after all.

To his amazement, the baby turned his head and garbled random noises before he became inert again.

Arthur's eyes widened and he immediately raised his volume with the most blissful smile engraved on his face. "Mum! Mummy! Alfred moved! He moved! He's not dead after all!"

His mother and Mrs. Jones came into the room, both smiling brightly at the child. "Baby Alfie said hi to you, Arthur," Mrs. Jones giggled, adjusting her sandy blonde hair to the side. "He heard your voice and wants to speak to you."

Arthur's eyes widened in pure bliss and a smile crept all the way to his ears. He glanced back at the baby and rocked it back and forth on the bed. "Hi baby! Hello, Alfred! Hello, hello! How are you? Are you hungry?"

The baby did not move anymore. He continued to sleep, completely ignoring the child above him.

Arthur's smile faded and he turned back to the two women with a blank look on his face. "I think he died again."

The ladies smiled again, and Mrs. Kirkland sat beside Arthur on the bed. "Arthur, dear, Mrs. Jones wants to ask you something."

Arthur blinked and turned to the other mother. "Yes Mrs. Jones?"

"Can you promise me something, Arthur? It's a really big responsibility, and I need someone as smart and responsible as you to do it for me," Mrs. Jones smiled, stroking Alfred's head gingerly.

Arthur paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, I can promise you something. What is it?"

"Can you promise me you'll take care of Alfred as if he was your real little brother, please?" the woman pulled Arthur into an embrace and rubbed his back, leaving the boy stunned and blushing rather furiously at having a lovely lady hug him. "He needs someone to take care of him when I am not around and your mother grows ill."

Arthur turned to his own mother and frowned. "I will, yes, but Mummy is sick?"

Mrs. Kirkland laughed. "No, not yet, but I feel a cold coming on," she quipped, pretending to sniff as if she had a stuffed nose. "So you do promise to be Alfred's brother? That also means you have to feed him, care for him, play with him, put him to sleep and clean up after him when Mrs. Jones and I can't, ok?"

Arthur immediately flinched at how much work he had assigned himself to do, and stuck his tongue out. "Ok, Mummy. Yes, I will take care of little Alfred."

"Promise me?" Mrs. Jones pulled the boy long enough to give him an endearing smile.

"Yes," Arthur nodded with an equally radiant smile. "Cross my heart."

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><p>Thanks again to all who read and review! I appreciate it! :D<p> 


	4. Chapter 3: Innocence

Next [short] chapter is up! I think I'm planning to try and upload new chapters every two to three days now, since there's not too much to write about in this time span (I mean, the two boys are kids). Finals are here, so I'll be having some spare time to dedicate to this story, mmkay? Mmkay. Thanks for reading! :D

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><p>Chapter 3: <em>Innocence<em>

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><p>"I cannot solve this," Abigail mumbled, sipping some of her tea from her glass cup. She studied the paper carefully, as if it would provide clues for her. She frowned and stared intently at the print. "The answer eludes me."<p>

"You can't? What a shame," Alice sighed, drinking her coffee. She smiled a bit exhaustedly and adjusted her dress. "It's supposed to be simple, really. I thought maybe you could solve it. You were always so bright, dear."

"Yes, but you know, education for women never truly benefitted anyone, so there was no point to knowing a lot anyway." Mrs. Kirkland stretched her back. "I need to leave and make the boys something to eat. I bet they're very hungry."

Mrs. Jones rose to her feet and rubbed her friend's shoulder. "I can help you. There is already a pot of water boiling in the kitchen. You just sit here and relax, ok?"

"Thank you, dear," Abigail smiled and returned to looking at the paper. "_What grows thick at dark, but becomes thin in the day_?" She reread the riddle, but her frown deepened. "It is no use. I cannot solve it."

"What is the matter, Mum?" Arthur came into the room, a perplexed look plastered on his face. He was holding hands with Alfred, who was just learning how to walk. "You look very tired and serious. Why are you so tense?"

"It's nothing, dearest," Abigail laughed, kissing the top of her child's head and ruffling his messy blond hair. "I am with Mrs. Jones trying to help her solve a puzzle, but I cannot solve it."

"What is the puzzle?" Arthur asked, staring at the same paper his mother held in her hand. He released Alfred's hand and lifted on his tiptoes to see.

"_What grows thick at dark, but becomes thin in the day_?" Alice smiled, stroking her baby's sandy blond hair. "It is too confusing."

Alfred garbled a few words in response, his face illuminating at his mother's touch. His cerulean blue eyes glistened, sparkling in the sunlight entering the window.

"Thin in the day, Thick at dark," Arthur thought to himself, pretending to rub his chin as if he had a beard (whose mannerisms mimicked that of his father's). "I don't know. Is it a tree?"

"Trees stay the same, love," Mrs. Jones giggled, and continued to prepare the stew. "They are either thick or thin, even if it's dark."

Arthur pouted and folded his arms over his chest. "I don't like this riddle. I know for sure trees change size in the dark."

"Don't be stubborn, Arthur," Mrs. Kirkland scolded. "Trees stay the same size."

"No, they grow fat in the dark, because the squirrels like to play with them during the day," Arthur protested, sticking out his lower lip. "They feel better looking fat at night because there's no one there to laugh at them. Everyone would be sleeping."

Silence prevailed for a few moments before Mrs. Kirkland's hard demeanor faded and the two mothers burst out laughing. Arthur blinked in surprise, wondering what the women found so funny in his words. Alfred remained swaying on his feet before falling onto his behind, finding the rug underneath him quite fascinating.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn slightly pink. "What is so funny, Mummy, Mrs. Jones?"

"Nothing, love," Mrs. Jones grinned, planting a kiss on the boy's head. "You're just a great joker."

Abigail laughed again, and then turned back to the paper. "He gets the innocence and imagination from his father. He was always such a kind and loving man, but sometimes he was too naïve for his own good."

"I see," Mrs. Jones took her cup of coffee to rinse it off, and then dried it and put it away in the cupboard. "I don't remember the last time I have met your husband."

"Neither have I. Oh," Mrs. Kirkland laughed again. "Look at how far off topic we have gotten! Let's try to solve the riddle. _What grows thick at dark, but becomes thin in the day__?_"

"Kitty," Alfred blurted out, leaping onto his feet and chasing after a cat in the house. He fell on all fours and crawled away from the women and his brother.

The other three watched the toddler speed after the feline, and Mrs. Jones's eyes brightened. "Ah! Cat eyes," She smiled to herself, clapping her hands excitedly. "Thank you Alfie! Cats' eyes are thin in the day and thick at night, to help it with vision!"

"Really?" Arthur blinked once more, not understanding all too well.

Mrs. Kirkland finally beamed. "Yes, that's right, isn't it?" she sighed and patted Arthur's head before they eyed each other and burst out into giggles.

"Thank you Alfred!"


	5. Chapter 4: A Spark

Wow! Sure has been a while since I updated, huh? Pardon the long absence, but I have returned! ... somewhat... But in any case, I will make the effort to update my other neglected stories as well. Thanks to everyone who waited so patiently for me to come back, I truly appreciate it! Well, without further ado, here is chapter 4!

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><p><strong>Chapter: <em>1763 Royal Proclamation of 1763<em>**

(6 years later)

"Arthur! Big brother, wake up! Wake up!"

The ten year old child yawned deeply and opened his eyelids for his emerald eyes to meet enlightened sapphire blue ones. He sat up slowly, groaning in sleepiness and trying to rub the sand from his eyes. "What is it, Alfred?"

"Let's play outside! Let's play! I want to play tag!" the chipper boy beamed, hopping up and down happily. "The sun came to say hi! Let's go say hi too!"

"Alfred," Arthur yawned again, shaking his head. "The sun never says hello. Now please, let me go back to sleep."

Alfred frowned. "Why? The sun is very bright; he's obviously saying hi to us! I want to play today!" He pouted and leaped on Arthur's legs, sitting on them and bouncing. "Let's play Catch the Weasel! Let's play Catch the Weasel!"

Arthur cringed at the pain that shot up his limbs from each of Alfred's bounces and frowned even deeper. "Alright, alright, fine. I'll play with you, on one condition."

Alfred slumped. Uh oh, a condition… He hated those. They were always something that shortened their playing time even more. "… Okay. What is it?"

"Let me get dressed. I'm still in my pajamas."

Needless to say, Alfred was quite stunned to see how simple the 'condition' was. His bright smile reappeared on his cheeky face and he leapt off of his brother. "Ok! I'll wait for you outside!" He sped out of the room in a split second, excited on what the children were going to do that evening.

Arthur released a sigh as the door slammed shut. His dear brother, Alfred, was turning six this year. He should be learning how to keep himself entertained. Why did Arthur still have to keep him busy? He wasn't that little anymore, was he?

"_Will you be Alfred's big brother, Arthur?"_

That's right. Arthur had made a promise to Mrs. Jones that he'd take good care of Alfred, even if he was all grown up.

… Mrs. Jones…

The memory of her made the back of his eyes build in pressure, almost forcing tears down his face. She was strong, until her guilt, weakness, and despair ate what was left of her shattered heart. She couldn't go on. Often Arthur found his mother taking the withering flower of Mrs. Jones into her own room whenever Alfred entered to see her. She became such a wreck that Arthur's mother dare not let Alfred look at her.

It's a shame what happened to her… Alfred saw a wonderful loving and pure soul of a mother even within the dying flesh of misery. Her pain was inflicted on her from the constant pestering of him asking for his dear father to come home.

But Arthur saw more than just a mother…

He saw an entreating wife, unable to move on after the loss of her husband and eventually withered away like a neglected rose.

Too bad she was gone… She left without telling her baby Alfred goodbye. Did she regret that? Was she weeping now? Does she wish Alfred would understand and not want him to miss her?

He was too heartbroken to think. He threw off his pajamas and slipped on a fresh but deeply stained pair of a dress shirt and shorts. He slipped on his wool sweater and leaped out of bed. He yanked his white socks and his brown boots on and fixed his hair with his fingers. No matter how much he would brush his hair, it would remain a messy and uneven mop of golden blond strands.

Arthur wasted no time racing out the door of his house to meet the familiar pouty face of an impatient Alfred. "Big brother, you kept me waiting! Why'd you take so long?"

Arthur chuckled and played with a stubborn strand of Alfred's hair that always seemed to be out of place. "Forgive my correcting you, but it's 'Why did,' not 'Why'd.' To answer your question…" He puckered his lips and smiled a bit mischievously with a small lie, "I was hungry and I went to eat a snack."

Alfred did not look amused. "You think your tummy is more important than playing with me? That's mean." He folded his arms over his chest and glared at Arthur. "You're mean, big brother."

Arthur laughed. "But I'm here now! Let's play while the sun's still out!"

In an instant, Alfred's smile reappeared and he found himself bouncing up and down in joy. "Yes! The sun says hi! Let's play in the sun! Let's play Catch the Weasel!"

Arthur smiled and pinched Alfred's nose. "Are you the Weasel again, little brother?"

Alfred giggled and nodded, his ocean blue eyes glistening. "Yes! I wanna be the weasel!"

"It's 'want to,' Alfred."

"I don't wanna say 'want to.' It's too boring."

Arthur stood taller with a sly expression plastered on his face. "Alright then, stubborn baby brother… I shall give you a five second head start. One… two… three…"

As soon as the boy began to count, Alfred zipped away very fast, giggling gleefully and skipping over rocks to avoid tripping. "You can't catch me Monkey Artie!"

Arthur pressed his lips together before shouting, "Four and five! I'm coming for you, Weasel!" He chased after the little child similar to a monkey's waddle to make Alfred laugh.

Sure enough, the kid burst out into giggles. "You run like a monkey, Arthur! You look dumb!"

Arthur frowned before smirking again. "At least I can walk on my legs! Weasels aren't supposed to!"

Alfred paused for a second before using all fours with a cheeky smile. "Oops. I forgot," he said happily, then zipped off again. "Come and get me, Monkey!"

"I'm coming for you, Weasel!" Arthur declared again with a wide grin. He suddenly stopped when he noticed a sign perched in a field of dying strands of grass, stating in bold black ink:

DO NOT CROSS. PROCLAMATION LINE OF 1763 IN EFFECT AS OF 10/07/1763

"Alfred!" Arthur called, standing straighter and screaming on the top of his lungs, "Come back! You can't be there!"

Alfred was too far away to hear him now. He raced and raced as far as his tiny legs would take him.

"ALFRED!" Arthur shouted again, his throat strained from the force of exerting his voice. "We can't be here! Come back! Please!"

No response. The child was dashing farther and farther into the grassy plains.

Arthur coughed from how dry his throat became, and sprinted as fast as he could to catch up with the boy. "Alfred!" He stifled another cough. "Alfred…! Hold on, please! Don't run away anymore!"

To the British child's surprise, he found his American baby brother standing still no more than a yard away. He smiled in relief and almost pounced on the boy.

"Alfred! I was worried sick!" Arthur announced weakly, his voice dying out and interrupted by coughs and pants. "We're not supposed to be here. We need to leave before we get caught."

Alfred was speechless. It was then did Arthur realize his brother's face was pale.

"Alfred?" Arthur looked in the direction Alfred had his eyes glued to, and gasped when his eyes met cold and dark brown ones. He observed the man closely, and felt sweat trickle down his neck at the sight.

This man was much darker in skin shade than he or Alfred was, and his hair wasn't light brown or blond. He had dark hair as shady as his eyes, and almost no clothing at all. He wasn't dressed as modestly as most of the official men in this village were dressed, and he surely did not wear socks or shoes. He barely had cloth wrapped around his waist and slung over his shoulder for a weak attempt at concealment, but other than that, Arthur assumed he was a savage in clothing and appearance.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

This man he was face to face with was one of those bastard Indians the British and the Americans loathed so much.

"U-um, hello there, Good Sir," Arthur greeted fearfully, pulling Alfred closer to him. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

The Native said nothing. He only stared at the trembling pair of white boys.

Arthur continued anyway. "Sorry, this is your land, huh? We didn't mean to cross. But can we play here for a little while? We'll go home after the sun goes down, I promise."

The man once again refused to speak.

Arthur paused for a few moments. "… Is that alright with you, Sir?" he asked again, very much requiring an answer.

"Go home," the man replied in a gruff and strange dialect. "You are not to be here, British child."

An Iroquois Native man, Arthur thought to himself. He shook his head. "I understand, Good Sir, but I was only playing here with my little American brother." He showed him Alfred. "We'll go home soon."

Alfred blinked. American…? What's an American? And why is Arthur called British and not American like Alfred? It was quite confusing…

"Go home," the Indian repeated, before turning his back to the pair of children and sauntering away.

Arthur was lost in confusion. Why did this man demand them to leave? It wasn't like they were truthfully trespassing, right?

"Arthur?"

The boy looked to his brother with a frown. "Yes?"

"I'm hungry," the child stated matter-of-fact with a blank look on his face. "The sun is saying good night, and it's cold here."

Arthur smiled softly and took the American kid's hand in his own. "Okay little brother. Let's go home."

They walked the same path they took to return to home safely without any further interruptions from Natives.

Alfred eyed Arthur curiously. "What's for dinner, big brother?"

Arthur grinned and pinched his nose. "It's a secret," he giggled.

"… Aw, I don't like secrets."


End file.
